


Morphine in the Blood, Black in the Veins

by ToBeorNotto_Ohforgetit



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek has issues with emotions, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, More comfort than hurt though, Pre Sterek, Slight Character Study, except Kate didn't happen, guilt complex, it also turned out very angsty, not season 4 spoiler compliant, oh well, post 3b, this was supposed to be a ficlet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-26
Updated: 2014-04-26
Packaged: 2018-01-20 22:21:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1527776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToBeorNotto_Ohforgetit/pseuds/ToBeorNotto_Ohforgetit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So that’s that?”</p>
<p>Scott looked back toward Stiles, hands curling into fists. “Yeah. That’s that.”</p>
<p>Silence rung out between them as they both looked back down at Stiles, who, while still pale, looked significantly better than the last time Derek had seen him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Derek isn't used to simplicity or peace. So when he finds it in a small hospital room with an injured Stiles, it's hard to say that he doesn't appreciate it.</p>
<p>But nothing ever stays simple for long.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Morphine in the Blood, Black in the Veins

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first try writing in the Teen Wolf fandom. We'll see how it goes.
> 
> Season 3b compliant in all except we are pretending that the last scene with Kate did not happen, and that none of the spoilers for season 4 happened.

 

“Hey,” Derek called softly from the doorway.

Scott looked up from the hospital bed, blurry eyed. “Oh, hey,” he slurred, suppressing a yawn, “what’s up?”

Derek shook his head imperceptibly. “Nothing, I just figured I’d check in to see how things are here.”

To see how _Stiles_ was. To see how Scott was holding up after everything.

“Okay,” the younger wolf shrugged. “But he hasn’t woken up much in the past day or so.”

Derek just gave a small nod. “They said he’ll be okay though?”

Scott gave a slight nod in return, swallowing thickly. “Yeah. Yeah, they-” he sighed, rubbing his hands across his eyes. “They’ve got him on a lot of pain meds right now, but they don’t seem to be doing a lot of good.” Derek glanced down at where Scott’s hands hung limply between his legs, the hard plastic chair close enough to reach the bed in a moment’s notice. “But…he’ll be okay. Just you know, have to take it easy for a while.”

Derek gave a soft snort. Like that was gonna happen. “Good luck with that.”

Scott tried to smile, but it fell flat into a small grimace. “Yeah,” he said, turning back to the stark pale form of his best friend.

“So what are you planning on doing?” Derek asked, keeping his eyes trained on Stiles as he felt the rage he had been holding back begin to bubble to the surface once more.

The young alpha dragged his hands down his face. “Honestly? There’s nothing to do. No one’s seen any sign of the Omegas since they left.”

“Or the hunters,” Derek said with a grimace.

They were as responsible for this as any rouge band of near feral werewolves.

“Yeah. Argent contacted them, did his thing, I guess… whatever that is,” Scott said, shrugging helplessly. He turned back to Derek hesitantly. “Thanks, by the way. For- for doing that.”

The older wolf shifted uncomfortably. “All I did was recommend Argent get in contact with them. It was a shot in the dark honestly. At least their reputation still carries enough weight around to reinforce a truce.”

The omegas hadn’t been a huge surprise. But the fact that so many came at once, a band of wanders who had long since lost their grip on humanity, made things a bit more complicated. The hunters that followed after them weren’t a huge shock either. Apparently they had been hunting down the rouges for some time. And of course, it just so happened that they weren’t overly concerned with discerning between a pack of werewolves and a band of beasts. In fact, they hadn’t even been concerned with discerning _humans_ from werewolves.

Apparently when their hunt for the rouges lead to a dead end, they figured shaking things up by taking out the local pack would draw them out. So they had taken Stiles.

How they had managed it without anyone realizing, he’d never know for sure.

Though he wouldn’t put it past Stiles to have stumbled right into them while out following some lead on his own.

To be honest, the entire pack had been too worried with the omegas to bother much with the hunters at the time. They (Stiles and Lydia, specifically) had already had more luck than the hunters to begin with. They all figured that as soon as they took out the omegas, or forced them to retreat, the hunters would go with them. The hunters had made a move yet, so they all figured that they wouldn’t attempt to strike at the pack. At least, not _yet_.

It was a mistake _Stiles_ had paid for. Derek hadn’t been filled in on the whole story, but it wasn’t hard to guess the basics from what had happened.

The hunters had obviously been trying to glean information from Stiles on where to find Scott’s pack, on any weaknesses they might have. Apparently in true Stiles fashion, when the teen had eventually caved, he didn’t lead them to the pack.

Instead, he lead them, unprepared, straight to the location of the omega den that they had pinpointed just days before.

Safe to say that the hunters had been prepared for a much different kind of fight, with werewolves far more in control of their humanity.

They hadn’t thought to prepare for the very pack of rabid animals they had been hunting for so long.

The hunters and Omegas were already well on the way to tearing each other to shreds by the time Derek, Scott, and the others had arrived. They took on the already weakened pack, pushing them back, and eventually forcing them to retreat. Sometime during the battle the remaining hunters fled from the scene. Leaving Stiles behind in less than great shape.

It was obvious that not only had the hunters had him for more than enough time to do some serious damage, but he’d also been caught in the middle of the battle. It was evident that the omegas must have gotten a hold of him for at least some period of time from the puncture wounds in his shoulder and the shallow claw marks across his ribs.

He’d barely been conscious by the time it was all over, too much blood loss and possibly a concussion. They’d gotten him to the hospital as quickly as possible.

Derek hadn’t seen Stiles since then. He’d heard a bit here and there, but the past few days had been about ensuring that the hunters left town with the rouges. Now at least, he could breathe a little easier.

So he wasn’t surprised that Scott said they couldn’t do anything else. But that hardly meant that he didn’t still want to track the bastards down all over again, and make them pay for ever stepping foot on Beacon Hills territory.

But he understood, so he just nodded slowly. “So that’s that?”

Scott looked back toward Stiles, hands curling into fists. “Yeah. That’s that.”

Silence rung out between them as they both looked back down at Stiles, who, while still pale, looked significantly better than the last time Derek had seen him.

Finally though, Derek noticed what had seemed so off since first stepping into the room.

“Where’s the Sheriff?” he asked, frowning as he tried to see if he could catch a scent of the man.

It was obvious he had been in this room for quite some time, but Derek couldn’t detect him anywhere now.

“He got called back into work. Apparently something about the dead bodies found in the woods,” Scott explained. “He couldn’t put it off any longer.”

“What about you?” Derek asked, learning back against the wall next to Scott’s chair.

Scott just shrugged. “Someone needs to stay with him, and I…” he trailed off before steeling himself. “I should be here. He’s my best friend, I should’ve been- I should be here. I-” his voice got stuck in his throat, resolve crumbling. “I should’ve been there. _God_ ,” Scott groaned, “He’s my best friend, why wasn’t I there,” he whispered, burying his face into his hands.

Derek paused, not sure what to do. Comfort had never been his strong suit.

He pushed off the wall, slowly sinking down to Scott’s level.

For all that Scott was proclaimed to be a “True Alpha,” the kid wasn’t that great at it. But then again, he certainly wasn’t in the position to judge _Scott’s_ leadership skills. He’d done a lot wrong, he occasionally got caught up in his own problems, but he was _trying_. And that at least meant something.

(Derek knew better than anyone.)

“You were,” he finally said, voice still low, afraid to make anything worse or to wake Stiles somehow. “You were there.” He thought through what he was going to say next carefully. “There’s nothing you could have done. You started searching the minute we realized what was happening. You helped find him. You got there in time, Scott. You were there.”

Scott looked up at him, eyes shiny, throat working hard to swallow. “But I-”

“ _You were there_ ,” Derek repeated once more, slowly and deliberately, cutting him off.

Scott took a deep, shaky breath, finally looking back up at the former alpha.

But before he had a chance to say anything further, Isaac skidded to a halt in front of the doorway.

“Uh-sorry to interrupt,” his former beta said, careful not to meet Derek’s eyes. “But we’ve got a bit of a situation.”

Derek stood quickly, Scott not far behind him.

“What kind of situation,” Derek growled.

Isaac shuffled back a few steps. “I don’t know. There aren’t any weapons yet though.”

Scott’s brow creased. “Weapons?” he asked, stepping forward.

Isaac nodded urgently. “One of the hunters apparently stayed behind. Says he wants to talk with you and Deaton.”

Scott paused, looking back at Derek.

“Where’s Deaton, then?” the young alpha asked.

“He’s the one that took the guy here.”

Derek snarled. “You’re telling me he led a hunter straight to where we are, straight to where _Stiles_ is?”

Isaac winced a bit, making Derek bite down on his tongue.

_Damnit_ , hadn’t he already scarred the poor kid enough?

Scott glanced about, seeming a bit lost. “I don’t know… I trust Deaton. Maybe it’s for a good reason if he went through the trouble of bringing him here.”

Isaac shrugged. “I don’t know, but standing around probably isn’t doing any good.”

Scott nodded, starting after his beta, before stopping, turning back to Stiles. The alpha glanced between the doorway and his best friend, worrying his lip, clearly unsure of what to do.

Derek looked back at Stiles as well, who had begun to shift on the bed a bit, probably subconsciously reacting to what was going on around him.

Scott continued to look down at him, obviously conflicted.

Derek finally sighed. “Just go,” he urged the teen. “If you need back up howl, have Lydia scream, something. I’ll be there. But I’ll stay here until then,” he said resolutely.

Scott looked up at him, brown eyes earnest. “Are you sure?”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Just go,” he snapped.

Scott hesitated a moment longer before nodding and following Isaac out of the hospital room.

Derek waited until he could no longer hear their footsteps. He kept his ears trained for nearby conversations, but there wasn’t much he could distinguish with all the different sounds emanating across the building.

He huffed as he slipped down into the plastic chair Scott had previously taken residence in.

He was nervous as to what the hunter could want, but if he really came alone (with Deaton, his mind grudgingly supplied), then he doubted he’d be too much trouble. And if it were a trap, then at least he knew he’d probably have the upper hand.

Unless they attempted to go after Stiles again...

Derek shook the thought from his mind. Stiles had just been a convenient target when they needed the location of Scott’s pack. They had no reason to attack here now. But on the off chance, he supposed it was a good idea for at least one person to stay.

More than likely though he was just sidelined for the time being. He glanced down at Stiles who had settled down once more, heartbeat still pounding along like a fast paced drum.

(He’d never met someone whose heart rate was naturally set at such a jackrabbit pace.)

Derek doubted he had any real reason to worry. It was just watching over one sleeping teenager, it wasn’t as if it were going to be any challenge. More than likely the challenge would be trying to stay entertained.

He settled into the chair, expanding his hearing once more.

The sound of the conversations, heartbeats, footsteps, and medical machinery all around him drowned out the noise inside his head, giving him something else to concentrate on as he focused his hearing from one area of activity to another.

Suddenly the sound of a nearby heartbeat overtook his senses.

Derek jerked out of his reverie looking up as Stiles’ heart and heart monitor went crazy, it’s pace turning erratic and frantic.

He stood quickly as Stiles hands clenched, twisting in the hospital sheets. A chocked off noise sounded from his throat as he seemed to try and curl in on himself, shaking.

The former alpha looked around in alarm, taking a small step closer to the pale teenager.

“Stiles?” he called softly, unsure what to do.

Scott had mentioned that the pain medication he was on hadn’t been much help. Derek had assumed he’d merely been occasionally taking his pain to lessen the impact.

But Scott hadn’t mentioned anything about any sort of episodes.

A horse whimper pulled itself from Stiles’ throat, causing Derek to focus back in on him. He reached out a hand, unsure of what to do, before drawing back.

That wasn’t his place.

“Scott?” he called hesitantly, moving back to the doorway. “Scott!” he shouted down the hall, turning his head in the direction the young alpha had disappeared.

But he doubted he had been heard. Scott had already left to a different floor. He was probably actually outside the building, already heavily engaged in whatever negotiations the hunter had wanted to strike up. Not to mention the fact that the hospital was basically bustling with energy. It was unlikely that unless Scott was honing in his sense of hearing, checking for some sort of ambush (and as much as he appreciated Scott’s tenacity, he wasn’t known for his ability to think ahead), then he more than likely wouldn’t hear him.

Besides, Scott had his own issues to worry about. He usually did.

(Derek wasn’t going to even consider what that meant for Scott’s relationship with _Stiles_.)

Derek let out a frustrated growl, raking his fingers through his hair as he walked back into the room, letting the door fall closed behind him.

Stiles’ breathing was labored and had only grown far shallower as the seconds ticked by, his face scrunched up in pain.

Derek exhaled sharply.

Fine. Scott wasn’t here, and Stiles was in pain. The fact that it wasn’t his place, that he was taught that taking another person’s pain was so often considered personal (even though Scott continued to do so, regardless of who they were), that he wasn’t technically pack, didn’t matter.

He knew Stiles. Had saved Stiles on multiple occasions, and had been saved _by_ Stiles a few times more. And despite anything either said or had ever done, no matter who was alpha or what ‘pack’ they considered themselves in now, Scott and Stiles would _always_ be pack to him.

(If he was honest with himself, his hesitance had less to do with pack ties and more to do with the fact that the only time he’d ever done this since the fire had been for Cora.)

He made his way slowly back to the bed, calling Stiles’ name once more. But the teen was firmly stuck in the realm of unconsciousness, body curling in on itself to try and escape its physical pain.

Derek tentatively reached out his hand before curling it around the slim, pale wrist.

He took a deep breath before focusing on drawing the coursing pain from the teen’s abused body.

The first rush of agony made him recoil as black rushed up his veins.

Derek gritted his teeth as he pulled the pain from Stiles’ body. He hadn’t anticipated that it would be this potent, especially after a few days of healing. But Stiles didn’t seem to be in much better shape than he had when the attack first occurred.

It was definitely worrying that he would still be feeling the effects of his injuries this intensely after the initial attack.

Derek just steeled himself and allowed himself to pull the black edges of agony out of Stiles, the pain searing a line within him before gradually disappearing.

Stiles slowly relaxed, hands unfurling a bit, heart rate slowing back down a bit.

Finally the pain coursing through his veins ebbed, turning into a dull ache after a few minutes.

The teen’s heart rate had begun to slow back down, though it wasn’t yet back to normal and his breathing was still far too shallow.

Derek kept their hands linked, despite the fact that whatever episode Stiles had been experiencing was nearly over, still slowly drawing the pain from his healing form.

While the whimpers had finally calmed down they still hadn’t completely disappeared, and Derek wondered for the first time if Stiles’ pain was something beyond the physical.

His brow creased as looked down at where he still tightly gripped Stiles’ wrist, unsure of what to do. If Stiles was having some sort of nightmare he wasn’t sure he’d have any clue what to do. He may be able to help soothe physical pain, but any problems beyond that were Stiles’ own. He had no intentions of getting involved too deeply.

Everyone had their own demons. Stiles could deal with his own, just like him.

(No one had _offered_ to help him or Laura. Would he say the same if someone had?)

This was still Stiles though. He had told Scott he’d look after him; this was part of _his pack_. The first pack he’d ever had after his family had burned. It couldn’t hurt just to wake him up. All he’d have to do is get Stiles awake and aware for a few minutes before allowing him to drift back to sleep. He’d probably be so drugged he wouldn’t even be able to form a coherent sentence, much less remember the conversation.

Besides, it wasn’t as if Derek was the sort of person Stiles would be interested in sharing nightmares with.

Before Derek had the chance to deliberate any further Stiles’ heartbeat picked up all over again. Derek felt a spike of pain flow through him, but that was it before it dulled down back to its normal level.

Stiles’ heart though, didn’t. His breathing picked up again, remaining shallow and uneven, while his heart monitor began to pick up speed rapidly.

For the first time he couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if a nurse walked into the room to find him here.

Or what would happen if _Melissa_ walked in.

He wasn’t sure what he’d say.

But it was becoming increasingly clear that Stiles wasn’t just having some sort of nightmare.

He was having a full on _panic attack_.

Derek kept hold of his wrist as he gripped Stiles’ shoulder with his other hand.

“Stiles,” he called, louder than before. “Stiles, wake up.”

The teen shifted a bit in the hospital bed, but beyond that didn’t respond any further, breathing still coming in quick, shallow spurts.

Derek risked shifting his grip on Stiles’ wrist, shaking him a slight bit. “Stiles, wake up. It’s just a dream. _Wake up_!”

Stiles’ eyes flew open as he startled awake. He lurched forward on the hospital bed, eyes unseeing.

Derek managed to grab the teen at the last possible second to prevent him from fully pulling his stiches.

“Stiles,” he demanded forcibly, attempting to gain the teen’s attention quickly before he could hurt himself any further. “It was just a dream. You’re awake. You were _dreaming.”_

Stiles heaved deep breaths, eyes darting frantically around the room. His heart rate still hadn’t slowed, but he seemed to slowly be taking in his surroundings.

He looked up at Derek with wide eyes, nearly doing an obvious double take as his breathing gradually slowed back down.

“Are you,” Stiles paused, voice hoarse with disuse and probably a dry throat. “I’m awake? Are you sure?” he asked, heart rate still erratic but no longer as fast paced.

Derek nodded slowly, brow creasing. “Yes. You were having a panic attack,” he said, not bothering to explain any further.

Stiles glanced around before looking down at his hands, fingers moving a bit. He looked back up at Derek. “But you’re here?”

Derek raised a brow. “Yes?”

“Why are you here?” Stiles asked, blunt as ever.

Derek rolled his eyes. “Scott was dragged off into negotiations with one of the straggling hunters and Deaton. Your dad apparently had to leave for the station.”

(Derek tried to squash down the sudden rush of bitterness he felt. It was ridiculous to feel hurt that Stiles would expect Scott or his dad there over him.)

Stiles just nodded slowly in return. “Okay, yes, but why are _you_ here?”

Derek shuffled a bit, trying to hide his discomfort. “I was with Scott when Isaac came and got him. He was worried about leaving you alone. For good reason, apparently,” he added under his breath.

“Huh,” Stiles said, cocking his head to the side, eyes still slightly glazed. “So you offered to stay to ease his mind and your guilt complex or whatever,” he nodded slowly as if letting that sink in. He looked back up at Derek sharply. “You sure this isn’t a dream?”

Both of the former alpha’s eyebrows rose at that. “Do you _usually_ dream about me?”

Stiles spluttered, cheeks flushing red. “No, I didn’t mean- I’m not- you just- I-”

Derek couldn’t help the small snort of amusement that escaped him. “No answer there?”

Stiles flushed a deeper red. “You don’t have to make it sound like _that_.”

Derek simply cocked a brow in amusement.

Stiles turned away, not looking him in the eye as he tried to hide his blush.

“I just meant-” he cut off as he attempted to cross his arms, pulling on the wrist that Derek still had trapped between his fingers.

Stiles stopped short, and stared down at the hand clamping onto his forearm in bemusement for a moment, apparently seeing it for the first time, before looking up at Derek in incredulity, then looking back down. Almost as if he couldn’t believe that the appendage touching him at the moment actually belonged to Derek.

Derek tried to prevent his own face from heating up, all of a sudden his close contact with the teenager making him a bit uncomfortable. He carefully schooled his expression though, just raising a brow at the teenager as he kept his grip on Stiles’ wrist.

“Uh…” Stiles said elegantly, still glancing disbelievingly between Derek and his wrist. “Whatchya doin’?”

Derek raised his other brow at that. “You just now noticed that I was holding on to your wrist?”

“Hey,” the teenager squawked indignantly, “I wasn’t really paying attention, okay! Busy panicking and all that. Not to mention the fact that my arm’s practically numb any…ways,” Stiles trailed off, looking back down at his wrist with a small frown.

“Hey wait, are you-”

“Yes,” Derek sighed, tired already. He hadn’t really counted on Stiles waking up while he was still taking his pain.

Which, of course, had spiked significantly when he woke up so suddenly, nearly tearing his stitches.

“Oh,” Stiles was quiet for a minute, clearly trying to think of a way of organizing whatever jumbled mess qualified as thoughts. “Umm… so why?”

Derek nearly dropped his wrist on principle. “If you want me to let go, then fine,” he growled.

“No, no!” Stiles cried hurriedly. “That’s not what I meant!”

Derek just stayed silent, glaring at the boy.

Stiles took a deep breath. “I just meant… I didn’t know you, you know, did that stuff. For people. Or humans. Especially, ya know… me?”

Derek chose to ignore his meaning and just shrugged. “You were in pain.”

Stiles let out a chocked off laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, I don’t doubt that. They won’t give me the good stuff here.” He paused for a moment, appraising Derek before slowly continuing, “I’ve been hurt a lot of times though. I’ve been okay then. You know that. So you didn’t have to- don’t have to- pain drain me or whatever…”

“I told Scott I’d make sure you were okay,” Derek grunted out, brow creasing.

“Oh,” Stiles said, shoulders hunching a bit. “Right. Scott asked you too. Okay. Yeah.”

Derek’s lips pulled down into a full on scowl. “I did it because you were hurting. Badly. And I wanted to. Not because of Scott.”

Stiles blinked in obvious surprise. “Oh. Okay. I- I guess, thank you then? But you really don’t-”

“Stiles,” Derek growled, “shut up.”

Stiles openly gawked at him for a moment, sputtering. “What- In what world do you think _demanding_ that I shut up is going to work!”

“The world where I knock you unconscious again by slamming your head into the metal rail on that hospital bed,” the werewolf rumbled.

The teenager snorted. “Yeah right, you’re all talk, _Sourwolf_ ,” he said, teasing as he capitalized on the nickname from all that time ago.

Derek bared his teeth in a way that no one would misconstrue as a smile.

Stiles just smiled brightly back at him.

_Idiot’s going to get himself killed_ , Derek scoffed to himself. _Doesn’t know when to stop_.

(If he purposely ignored the slight bit of fondness that leaked into his inner voice at the thought, then that was his own business, and no one else’s.)

Derek faked consideration for a moment, cocking his head to the side. “I suppose the cleanup wouldn’t be worth the pay off. Too much blood and bleach to deal with.”

The wolf had to hide a grin when Stiles squawked once more.

The room fell into awkward silence for a moment, neither knowing what to say.

Derek half expected Stiles to go off on some sort of ramble when he took a deep breath (That was how he had filled the silence so many times, when they’d been left in each other’s presence for whatever reason, whenever it become too oppressive. He’d never tell Stiles that he was kind of grateful that, for once he wasn’t expected to do the talking.), but instead he just asked: “So, what did you need?”

Derek did a slight double-take at the question. “Need?”

Stiles shrugged. “Well yeah, kind of random for you to be here in general. So figured you came to ask Scott for something? Just curious.” Stiles paused for a moment, before adding, “Unless you wanted something from me. In which case, you’re kind of a dick cuz I’m currently hospitalized.”

The former alpha took a deep breath, exhaling sharply through his nose. “I’m not here for anything, you idiot. I came for you and Scott. Scott needed to be updated, and I hadn’t heard much about you since the night of the attack.”

“Oh,” Stiles said quietly. “Umm…thank you, then? I’m fine. Yeah, I’m good. Nice of you to ask.”

Derek’s brow scrunched together. “I wasn’t asking you anything. You’re lying anyway.”

“Am not!” Stiles shot back, suddenly defensive and loud once again. “I think I know my body better than you do.”

“You where thrashing in your sleep in agonizing pain, and then had a panic attack,” Derek replied, deadpan.

Stiles grumbled under his breath, turning away from the wolf.

Derek didn’t bother to try and decipher any of the cut off phrases, just let Stiles come to rest at his own pace, the teenagers pulse a warm weight against his fingers.

Stiles eventually just sighed, visibly deflating. “How’s Scott doing anyway? I haven’t been awake much, but when I’ve seen him he’s been kind of quiet.”

Derek shrugs absentmindedly. “He’s healed. Relieved the omegas and the hunters are gone. He’s probably just dealing with the guilt.”

Stiles jerked in his seat. “Guilt? Guilt about what? No one’s dead. He didn’t have to kill anyone. What’s he guilty about?” He asked all in a rush, before pausing and adding quietly, “No one’s _dead_ , right…?”

Derek shook his head sharply. “No. No one’s dead. You’re in the hospital, idiot.”

Stiles paused, glancing down at himself with a contemplative frown. “Um, yes. Thank you for that astute observation.”

Derek had to restrain himself from pinching the bridge of his nose to prevent the oncoming headache.

How being a werewolf could cure you of everything except stress migraines, he’d never know.

“He’s upset that you’re _in the hospital_ ,” Derek stressed to the younger boy.

Stiles frowned. “He’s feeling guilty that I’m in the hospital? That’s stupid, why?”

“He didn’t get there in time,” the former alpha said, now looking past Stiles to the plain picture of a sunflower hanging behind him on the wall. “Of course he’s feeling guilty. He feels like he let you down.”

“But he couldn’t have known,” Stiles protested. “It wasn’t his fault I was an idiot. Or that those guys were absolute bastards. Or both. Probably both.”

“It’s his job to protect you,” Derek replied tonelessly. “You mean a lot to him. And it’s no lie that if he had checked in with you, or had been better at scent tracking, then we would have been there soon-”

Derek suddenly clamped down on his own tongue, appalled at what he was saying.

He told himself he wouldn’t do this anymore. He wouldn’t keep making the same mistake.

He didn’t blame Scott, it wasn’t his fault. It was late when Stiles had been taken. It wouldn’t have been a surprise even if he didn’t respond to a text or answer a call.

But Derek usually did rounds at night before heading back to the loft.

And Scott wasn’t the one who was scent tracking Stiles… Derek was.

Derek was about to say something- apologize, leave, explain it away, anything- when Stiles spoke up.

“So,” he cleared his throat, “doesn’t look like Scott was the only one guilt tripping himself, huh.”

Derek pulled away suddenly, chair nearly falling backward, hand dropping from Stiles’ wrist a moment before he fully realized his mistake.

As soon as Derek’s touch was gone Stiles gasped out in pain, curling in on himself as he felt the full effects of his agony for the first time since waking up, before letting out an agonized whine as his stitches pulled.

His heart rate sparked immediately as well as the machine he was hooked up to.

Derek instantly shot forward again, grabbing onto Stiles’ shoulders, draining away the pain again as he forced the teen to slowly unfurl.

“Don’t do that, idiot; you’re only going to end up tearing the stitches out and making it worse,” the werewolf growled, as he gently laid him back.

Stiles let out a gasping sob. “Yeah, yeah, I-I’ll keep that in mind.”

His chest heaved for a minute or so longer before evening out once again.

Derek kept one hand on Stiles’ shoulder while the other slid down to his wrist, black racing across his veins once again.

“Okay,” Stiles finally spoke up again, voice hoarse. “Maybe you were right about the whole ‘not fine’ thing.”

Derek can’t stop the soft snort he lets out as he slowly removes his hand from Stiles’ shoulder.

Stiles surprised him though, hand coming up to grip his wrist.

Derek looked up in surprise, eyes meeting Stiles’ deep brown ones.

“You realize that this isn’t your fault either, right?” Stiles said carefully. “I know you don’t blame Scott, but don’t blame yourself either. You aren’t responsible for everything and everyone.”

Derek grumbled a bit. “No, but I am responsible for my pack,” he said, before stopping.

He hadn’t meant to say that.

Why had he said that?

Now he was going to have to deal with Stiles’ asking all sorts of questions, thinking he’d somehow officially joined the pack or something while he’d been out.

(Not that it mattered, he was basically a permanent fixture there regardless of any actual status. He wasn’t kidding _himself_ at the very least.)

But Stiles simply snorted, surprising him. “You freaking alphas and your hero complexes.”

Derek couldn’t help the small bit of tension that uncoiled within him and had to suppress a small grin.

He wasn’t sure why Stiles referring to him as an alpha allowed a small peace of mind to settle within him, but he wasn’t going to over analyze it.

At least… not now.

Stiles yawned a bit, blinking blearily.

He gave a soft snort. “You sure this isn’t a dream?”

“Why do you keep thinking that?” Derek near demanded, annoyed.

Stiles shrugged. “I don’t know, you’re just being like… weirdly nice. For you. I think you even made a joke earlier. It’s weird.”

Derek raised a brow.

Stiles flushed a bit, turning away from him. “You’re just usually slamming me against things, walls, steering wheels, your fist. Or you know, wanting me to do something for you. Or we’re in some type of life threatening situation. And I’m pretty sure this is the most I’ve heard you talk in like- ever,” he rambled, clearly unsure what else to say.

Derek sighed, batting down the urge to defend himself. “I’ve-” he stopped, unsure what to say, exactly. “I’m- I’m trying,” he finally settled on, not explaining any further.

Stiles surprised him once more though by simply nodding. “Yeah. Yeah okay. Sorry. I know it probably seems like I’m being a douche or- or looking a gift horse in the mouth or something, but I just- After everything that happened I-” he swallowed thickly, having difficulty continuing.

Derek understood what he was trying to convey though, and simply nodded, suddenly feeling something twist inside his gut.

Of course Stiles was worried after what had happened over November. The Nogitsune had done a number on all of them, Stiles probably worst of all.

(Not counting Allison, of course.)

(Not that Allison necessarily would have won on that scale anyway. The way he saw it, she had the easy part.)

So it makes sense that he’d be extra cautious about what’s real and what’s not. About when he’s awake versus caught somewhere in a dream/hallucination.

_Shit_ , and Derek had made a joke about it.

“Hey, hey,” Stiles said suddenly, sitting up a bit straighter. “No. Nope, none of that. I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I’m fine. Just recovering with some classic PTSD. Nothing big. Don’t freak.”

Derek scoffed, shaking his head. “Go back to sleep, Stiles.”

Stiles nearly cut him off with a yawn. “Yeah, yeah I think I’ll do that. Man, that werewolf mojo is like drugs, dude. I’m ready to drop.”

“Don’t call me dude.” Derek said, frowning.

“Hey, so if I fall asleep will you be here when I wake up?” Stiles asked, shifting in the hospital bed.

The former alpha’s brow creased. “I don’t know. It depends.”

Stiles just nodded sleepily. “Okay. But if I bring up this conversation later, you won’t deny it right. You’ll remember it?”

Derek rolled his eyes, giving an exasperated sigh. “Yes Stiles, I’ll remember it.”

“Okay,” the teen said drowsily. “Okay.”

Derek waited silently as Stiles drifted back into unconsciousness.

He took a deep breath, his hand still lightly resting on Stile’s wrist, the black seeping up his veins so faint it was barely evident.

He supposed he now understood why Scott had seemed so tired and so unsure about leaving his best friend. He just wished the younger wolf would have told him as much before leaving.

For right then though, he was content to simply stay there and revel in the surprisingly peaceful atmosphere.

That was something he certainly never thought he’d find in a _hospital_.

The noises all around him buzzed pleasantly in the background but somehow didn’t seem to intrude on the private environment that the small room filled with Stiles’ steady breathing created.

Derek stared off at the far wall of the hospital for a good amount of time, taking comfort in the teen’s jackrabbit, _normal_ , heart rate. Even with Stiles unconscious it felt nice to feel so close to another member of his original pack.

(Isaac was still wary around him, Scott was getting better, and Erica and Boyd were gone.)

He glanced back down at Stiles, remembering the young teen who first stood up to him in a police cruiser, then saved him from drowning, before essentially dying and becoming possessed by some sort of demon. He had to hand it to the kid, he’d come a long ways.

But then, so had Derek.

He wasn’t sure he could still be put in the same position he was that day in the police cruiser and respond the same way.

Though maybe that was because he knew Stiles now. Knew that he wasn’t a threat (most days). And knew that he was about as reliable as anyone else in this godforsaken town.

(Somewhere buried deep he refused to acknowledge the instinct that screamed to trust Stiles; that yelled about how he already did.)

(Because as well-meaning as Scott was, betrayal was betrayal. And even with his reasoning, Scott’s actions that day in the warehouse with Gerard hadn’t led Derek anywhere close to trusting him. Believing in him, sure. Trusting him… Hardly.)

He couldn’t help the small smile that stretched his lips as he took in the upturned nose and long lashes that fell against the teen’s pale cheeks. A small bit of warmth bubbled up within him as he took in Stiles’ peaceful, sleeping form. He was always so restless when awake; it felt rare and sort of precious for Derek to be seeing him like this now.

Defenses down, still for once, safe in the presence of pack, attractive-

Derek suddenly recoiled violently, only just preventing himself from pulling his hand away at the last moment.

_Shit_ , he cursed inwardly. _Shit, shit,_ shit.

He quickly averted his eyes back to the sunflower on the wall, the warmth gone in an instant, ice replacing it in his veins.

He tried to steady his breathing as it suddenly became labored and harsh.

Derek took a small steadying moment to take a deep breath, exhaling loudly.

  1. This wasn’t going to happen. He wasn’t going to let it.



(He should have known better, he should have known this for what it was the moment he felt any amount of comfort here.)

He wasn’t going to allow himself to develop some sort of warped attraction to a seventeen year old kid.

(He wasn’t going to be _her_.)

He should have recognized it, Derek berated himself. He should have recognized it all those times in the past. When a small bit of warmth would crop up within him whenever Stiles was around (holding him together with a hand on his shoulder, a touch to his arm, a slap to the face). When panic that wouldn’t recede dwelled within him for nearly a month straight, at the thought of what the Nogitsune must have been doing, of what Stiles must have been experiencing.

_Shit, shit,_ shit, Derek chanted in his mind once more.

He had to stop. Now. Before this went any further. Before he allowed himself to dwell any deeper in the ridiculously content feeling that his instincts kept pushing back up.

(His instincts had gotten it wrong before. With Jennifer/Julia. With _her_.)

(He didn’t even try to address the small voice in the back of his mind telling him that he couldn’t stop this now. That it was too deeply rooted.)

He wasn’t going to allow some sort of ridiculous affection to overcome him. He wasn’t going to allow himself to continue being attracted to a _child_.

He wouldn’t do that to Stiles.

(He wouldn’t do that to _himself_.)

He _wouldn’t_.

Derek’s heartbeat had gotten out of hand once again, and he tried to prevent himself from tightening his grip on Stiles’ wrist, instead gripping the metal bars of the hospital bed so tightly that he was sure there were dents in it.

He needed to get out of here. He needed out now.

He wasn’t sure what would happen if he stayed much longer (it was too late to change anything now, anyways), but he couldn’t bear to stay here when what had felt so safe moments ago (had made him feel like a protector, made him feel as if he could _keep_ _Stiles,_ of all people) suddenly felt dangerous and off balance.

But… he didn’t want to let go.

Derek didn’t want to lose everything that small conversation felt it had just gained him. He didn’t want to let go of Stiles’ wrist and let him suffer through his sleep. And he hated the thought of even waking him up, preventing him from getting any sort of rest until a nurse came back to check on him.

He took a deep, shaky breath, before trying to even out his breathing once more.

It was fine. He could wait until Scott got there. He was fine.

He’d be fine.

(It wasn’t fine, it’d never be fine.)

(He violently squashed the small voice in the back of his head that asked, _but isn’t it?_ )

Stiles made a small discontent noise in the back of his throat, shifting a bit in his sleep, subconsciously sensing the change in the atmosphere.

Warmth no longer lingered around them, and the air suddenly felt stifling.

Derek was wondering how he was going to manage to breathe for much longer in the small room, how he was going to avoid looking at Stiles without feeling sick with himself, when the door suddenly creaked open.

Derek stood quickly, turning to see Scott stepping back in.

“Hey,” Scott said quietly. “He still asleep?”

Derek nodded shortly. “Yeah,” not bothering to elaborate.

“Okay. Did anything-” Scott began, only for Derek to cut him off.

“Happen?” He asked, raising a brow. “Like him having some sort of episode while asleep?”

Scott cringed, looking slightly apologetic. “Sorry. They don’t happen often, so I had figured I wouldn’t worry you with that.”

Derek’s brow creased. “You should have told me,” he said gruffly, finally letting go of Stiles’ wrist and trying to ignore the small sound of discontent the teen made, causing him to curl in on himself a bit at the loss of comfort and relief.

He forced down the small bit of pain that stirred within his chest at the sound. Scott was here now. He’d be fine.

“You also need to tell your mom that his meds have worn off,” he added, before beginning to shoulder past Scott.

“Wait!” Scott called, grabbing him by the elbow.

Derek paused, looking down at the hand Scott had on him, expression blank.

Scott quickly pulled back as if he’d been burned, shifting uncomfortably.

“Don’t you want to know how everything went?” he asked quietly.

Derek paused. “Are they coming back?”

“No,” the younger wolf said, shaking his head.

“Then that’s all I need to know,” Derek replied, slipping out of the room before Scott could stop him once again.

Scott didn’t chase after him as Derek’s footsteps clicked against the linoleum floor. He had to physically restrain himself form running all the way to the elevator in an attempt to outrun both Scott and Stiles.

(And wasn’t that hilarious. Of all people to be running from, he was running from _Stiles_.)

When the doors to the elevator finally slid shut, Derek’s back hit the back wall, chest heaving for a moment as he slid his hands down his face.

How the hell had he allowed something like this to happen? Allow himself to develop some sort of sick, twisted attraction to develop toward _Stiles_?

His head couldn’t quite grasp all the different things that were running through his mind right then.

(He ignored the one that urged him to stop. To go back and wait with _his pack_.)

(He crushed the voice that told him there was nothing wrong with liking Stiles that way. The teen was an adult in every way except legality.)

Out of all the thoughts running thoughts circling in his head, he allowed himself to endure the voice that screamed he was just like _her_.

(He flinched away from the voice that whispered what Kate had done to him, that she’d ruined him. In every way.)

Derek took a deep shuddering breath once more, composing himself quickly as the hospital doors slid open.

It was okay.

He could do this.

All he had to do was ignore it long enough, stay away from Stiles long enough, and it would fade.

He could deal with this.

(Like he dealt with everything else).

He would.

*                                               *                                         *

Stiles’ eyes fluttered open when he felt the grip on his wrist shift a bit. He glanced over to the hand that was gripping his forearm loosely, frowning when he noticed that it was darker than Derek’s.

He looked up to see Scott watching him with concern.

“Hey, you’re awake. You feeling okay?” Scott asked, scooting forward on the edge of his seat.

Stiles glanced around in confusion. “Yeah,” he answered distractedly, “yeah, I’m fine.”

Scott let out a sigh of relief. “Good. My mom’s going to be here soon for your next dose. She said you should be fine within the next two days or so.”

Stiles nodded numbly, barely paying any attention to what his best friend was saying. “Cool, yeah. Hey, where’d Derek go?”

Scott’s brow creased. “Derek?” he asked, mouth pulling down in a slight frown.

Stiles nodded slowly. “Yeah, you know, Derek? Broody? Dark hair? Nice eyes?”

Scott’s eyebrows rose at that. “Nice eyes?”

Stiles just shrugged. “It’s true. Where’d he go?” he persisted, not willing to let Scott distract him for once.

Scott worried his bottom lip between his teeth. “He had to go. Emergency or something of some sort.”

“Oh,” Stiles said quietly, frowning. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Scott hurriedly reassured him. “Everything’s good. He just couldn’t wait.”

Stiles nodded slowly. “Okay. Yeah. Yeah, that makes sense,” he yawned a bit, still feeling ridiculously tired.

He had to admit that he kind of missed having Derek’s presence. Not that he didn’t love having Scott around; there had just been something so warm about the room when Derek had been there. Like he didn’t need to worry about the little stuff anymore. It had been nice.

“Hey,” he murmured sleepily as he settled back down into his pillow. “When you see him again, tell him thanks for me, okay?”

Scott paused, considering him very seriously for a long moment.

But Stiles didn’t bother watching Scott’s odd deliberation (it was Derek, he didn’t know why Scott was acting so edgy); he was already drifting back off into the wonderful realm of sleep.

“Yeah. Yeah, sure. I will,” he heard Scott say quietly just as the last bits of consciousness were leaving him.

_Good_ , Stiles thought. _That’s good._

And if when he fell back to sleep his dreams were filled with oddly colored green eyes that flashed blue, black veins, dry wit, and gentle hands… Well, that was his business. And his business alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope it turned out alright! Thanks for reading, and comments or constructive criticism is always welcome.


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